


Inside the Deepsea Metro

by twilightprince



Category: Splatoon
Genre: During Canon, Gen, Original Character(s), Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-11-08 11:07:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17980166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twilightprince/pseuds/twilightprince
Summary: Recollection of the events of Octo Expansion from Agent 3's pov.





	Inside the Deepsea Metro

Sirius’ eyes snapped open, seconds later he was on his feet in an instinct driven panic, hands reaching towards his back for his absent charger before he had even realized it was missing. After the attempt to grab his weapon, hands reached up to rub hazy eyes as the inkling tried to take in more of his surroundings. It seemed as if he had just woken up in some abandoned train station? There were turnstiles, and what looked to be an old train in the distance. The turnstiles however were lined in caution tape, its faded yellow swaying in the musty air and many of the floor tiles were damaged or missing entirely. Definitely not up to par with Inkopolis rigorous train standards. Sirius tried to take a step forward, nearly falling over as a dizzy spell overcame him. ‘How long have I been out’ He thought, steadying himself before taking another step. 

Slowly beginning to move, Sirius began to consider for how much of his gear was missing. His charger and inktank were both gone, leaving him defenseless for the time being. His headphones however were still intact, and he fumbled with the tuning device on them, trying to pick up a signal, “This is Agent 3 of Squidbeak Splatoon coming in, does anyone copy? I repeat; does anyone copy?” He paced around the room anxiously, his voice reverberating against the cold damp walls. All that met his ears in response to his plea for help was a faint static. ‘At least the lights are still on in this place, but…that’s a good and a bad sign. Good because I can see, bad because that means I’m probably not alone…Besides someone had to have taken my gear it wouldn’t just go missing.’ He started to piece together what was going on, looking up to the ceiling trying to see if maybe he had fallen down here, but that didn’t seem to be the case. This was targeted. Whatever or whoever had done this to him had intentions unknown to Sirius.

He took a few uneasy steps, nearly losing balance as he didn’t take note of the incline that lead to the station platform. The train at the platform looked like it hadn’t moved in a while, and a small plywood ramp closed the gap between it and the station. All of the lights in the cabin were on however, which made Sirius even more uneasy about the situation. He walked back and forth on the station platform, looking for another possible way out, instead of heading deeper in right off the bat, and tried to get any form of radio contact, this time trying the closed-circuit radio line among other Agents, “Agents 1, 2 Do you copy? Cap’n Cuttlefish? Does anyone read me?” He began to get frustrated, his voice rising along with his desperation for contact. He bared his teeth considering throwing his headphones in a fit of anger but decided against it, entering the train compartment. The right side of the train was closed off, doors shut mostly but wedged tightly in place with the whole back wall covered in caution tape. The other doors were open however, the only light source being the dim light from the cabin’s interior. He continued, only stopping as he felt his runners come in contact with something sticky but familiar. He immediately pulled his foot back and walked around the pool of pink ink crouching a bit in case he needed to duck for cover.

Sirius walked down the length of the train slowly, checking his shoulders every few moments. Where the next car should have been was instead a small ramp of plywood leading down onto the train tracks and more pink ink. Sirius grinded his teeth together, carefully walking along the edge of the rails to avoid it, while praying to whoever would listen that he wasn’t walking unarmed into an ambush. Come to think of it now, what was happening before he ended up here. His memories were hazy. Sirius remembered being…out with someone… was it the Captain? Before they we’re attacked by… Octarians? He pinched the bridge of his nose as a headache came on. They weren’t the usual run of the mill Octarians either, or at least he didn’t think they were. Something was off about them, but he couldn’t remember exactly…

As he was lost in thought, he nearly tripped again as the tracks he walked along came to an end, leading up to a slightly tidier, seemingly repurposed station. There were dozens of white boxes lining the wall, as well as a row of strange looking machinery that he had never seen before, none of this was a good sign. Even worse, at the other end of the station where the tracks would have theoretically continued, was an Octarian vault, meaning not only a key was nearby, but so were Octarians. He took a second glance around the room, seeing a deactivated ink rail, some kind of switch maybe, and a glass sign presumably for a company named Kamabo. It was written in the Inkling language, in fact, all the details on the boxes and machinery seemed to be written in Inkling, making the Octarian Vault that much more perplexing. He walked over to the switch, hesitantly stepping on it. His feet left the ground as the inkrail next to it activated, taking on a bright soda teal color. As soon as his heart stopped racing he jumped into the rail following its incline over the previously blocked hallway.

Another switch awaited him on the other side, with the same footprint markings as the first, this one activating a small capsule like wall around him, bringing up an interface displaying a familiar looking gun. One of his guns. Octarian text beneath it read ‘Heroshot Replica’ and a small icon that resembled a splat bomb adorned the corner. Sirius thanked himself for picking up Octarian a few years back, praising his own intelligence before selecting the gun and finding one materializing in his hands, similar to the tech they’d run at turf wars or ranked battles that allowed guns to be returned to spawn with their user. He spun the gun around in his hands a few times, fond of the familiar feel of safety and the handle. The wall in front of him lowered, but the back half of the capsule stayed put, implying that he might have to give the gun back to leave. Whoever designed this was smart, however didn’t anticipate anyone tall using their technology as Sirius simply took a small running start and grabbed onto the back walls ledge before hoisting himself over.

Proud of his ingenuity for only moments before a sudden weight crashed into his back, knocking him onto his stomach and sending his gun spiraling out of his hands and sending him a brief rage in which he cursed to himself. Against his knowledge, the strange capsule weapon turnstile thing had also supplied him with an inktank. A heavier, bulkier and most importantly, more annoying, inktank. He scooped up his weapon and returned to his feet before taking it off and inspecting it. ‘Definitely not Inkling tech at all,’ he thought to himself taking in the sleek albeit large design. As much as he found it annoying, it did look good and he needed it anyways. He took a few test shots of his gun, aiming back down the hallway he was just in. It had been a while since he used anything other than his charger or his inkbrush, but the heroshot would be a necessary evil, who knows if he will have the luxury of choosing where to fight enemies that he would need to use either of his preferred weapons. 

He returned back to the station platform he was just on using the inkrail again, before using his weapon to ink the walls surrounding the Octarian vault to pass it. Proceeding, with a slightly more confident stride, he followed the tunnel and train tracks until he saw what looked to be…light?

Sirius broke into a sprint, still keeping himself relatively low to the ground in case of enemies abound before coming to a halt as the tunnel opened up to a much larger station. He pushed air through his teeth, using his free hand and sleeve to wipe away the drool that had begun to pool at the corner of his mouth.

The much more wide-open station was dimly lit by a series of lights hanging from the ceiling, those bright white industrial lights that gave him migraines. Fake daylight if you will. Only these ones weren’t able to do their job properly as many were either broken or caked in dust to the point of only being able to let out shreds of light, giving the illusion of some otherworldly and heavenly glow descending upon this forgotten station. The ceiling was high, arched, and sadly intact, meaning no way out yet. The walls supporting it were caked in grime and years of neglect. Sirius made his way up to the main station platform, which was flanked by train tracks, two on each side. Loose papers and what looked to be old magazines littered the place, and he kicked a few aside before looking down the strip of platform. The dust hung like a curtain, strangling any attempt for a breath of fresh air. Further down a single bright light shone like a spotlight on some archaic piece of metal. As Sirius approached, it looked to be a human sized device, an old form of telecommunication if his memory served correct and as if on cue, the device began to ring. Its shrill, loud tone shattered the silence that had haunted Sirius since he woke up, if you can really call the sound of dripping water and echoing footsteps silence that is.

Sirius approached the device, holding his heroshot replica in front of him, ready to blast whatever this was into scrap metal. Before he could reach out to touch it, whatever it was, it addressed him “[SEARCHING FOR USER ID…PLEASE HOLD]” prompting Sirius to tilt his head, the tip of his gun wilting slightly, “[USER 10005- “the machine emitted a worrying noise resembling something getting stuck in a vacuum cleaner, snapping Sirius and his gun back to attention. “[USER 10003 CONFIRMED]” The machine was speaking in Octarian but whether this was good or bad news was still undecided for Sirius. “Greetings, 10,003. Welcome to Deepsea Metro Central Station. My primary function is to facilitate your journey to the promised land! Pleased to make your acquaintance. [ASSESSING COMMUNICATION EFFICIENCY…] [EFFICIENCY 100% DESPITE USER 10003 BEING INKLING]” Sirius lowered his gun, the gears in his brain slowly turning. ‘Promised land? Perhaps he means Inkopolis, I know a lot of Octolings are trying to seek refuge there from the Octarian army’ but before he could verbalize any of his thoughts, the device continued its monologue. “Please pay close attention while I detail your situation.” The machine emitted another horrible noise, seemingly unable to process what it was supposed to say. ‘Perhaps it’s not used to dealing with inklings? Maybe it just has a loose wire or something…I should probably just leave it,’  
“Listen, uh…whatever you are-“ Sirius began, not expecting a reply from the short-circuiting device.  
“I am a telephone,” the noises stopped instantly, and Sirius did a double take on the “telephone” before him. Machines aren’t supposed to give sentient replies. “As stated prior, my primary function is assisting Users arrival to the Promised Land, however, you are not my average clientele. Please forgive my inability to accommodate quickly, it’s been years since I’ve seen one of your kind down here.”

**Author's Note:**

> Pls forgive me I on god haven't written anything in a good like 4 years so im still rusty, not that i like super duper expect this to get any kind of traction.  
> If u want more info on my Agent 3 feel free to pester me on twitter or smth.


End file.
